


Indolent

by fadedredscarf



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Late Night Conversations, Night Terrors, Nightmares, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV First Person, Sans Has Issues, Sans Has Night Terrors, Undertale Saves and Resets, i dont know if these are even right to the story lmao
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-08
Updated: 2016-11-08
Packaged: 2018-08-29 19:59:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8503408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fadedredscarf/pseuds/fadedredscarf
Summary: Sans doesn't know how to deal with himself, and all of his problems.
So he keeps going to Grillby's to talk to the bartender about his life. Maybe that'll make everything go away.





	

late night. snowy as always. i realized how pink slippers look beautiful covered in snow. a very heavy contrast- snowdin seems to be a little eerie when it’s nighttime. i’m only heading to a place that seems like my second home.

  
my feet slowly shuffle up, body gradually slowing down. these kinds of nights could always throw all of my stamina out of the window. heh, pathetic, i’ve always been too tired to the toes, but never  _ this _ tired.    
  
like always, sleeping ain’t my forte. at least staying asleep is. or maybe not. i dunno.   
  
earlier, my body automatically shriveled itself up into a lousy ball out of fear. it’s disgusting. i hate it. just why can’t i have nice things? papyrus, especially, has them. no,  _ everyone  _ has them. but i don’t. hasn’t it always been that way? everyone has  _ everything,  _ and i don’t have anything but nothing.    
  
after what it feels like an eternity (wow, that’s a first timer), i’ve finally arrived.    
  
i would… i would actually try to go to the mtt resort, but… is trying really all there is at the moment? besides, i need someone to talk to. the resort is only fine if i needed to think about sentimental values, or if i was done with my job as comedian. grillby’s seems to be the nearest place there is. this fire man is always here 24/7. there are some late night customers, like me. and he’s the only bartender, so he has to tend to them. what a cool guy, though not as cool as pap.   
  
i pushed myself to the door without an effort, and the doorbell rings.    
  
placin’ my shaky hands into my pockets, i greet the place with my usual smile. surprisingly, there isn’t anyone here, which is actually a great thing. no one needs to hear my pointless rambling.    
  
“yo, grillbz-a.” i happily say, walking towards a seat near the counter.    
  
“Sans. What a pleasant surprise.” he shot back.   
  
“what a rude response, coming from ya. don’t speak like that to your valuable customer”, i replied, shrugging my shoulders as i sat down. 

 

finally, everything within me seemed to lose by itself as it dropped down to the counter. i mean, it’s the late night and i needed a surface of some sort to rest my body. this wooden (and magical, seeing how this whole place hasn’t burned down into crisp yet) table works.    
  
before he could ask me what i wanted, i stared at him right in his soulless glasses (does he even have eyes? haven’t i known this guy for a long time already?) tellin’ him i want the usual.    
  
nodding to my response, grillby immediately grabbed a bottle of both ketchup bottles and handed it to me.    
__  
with my still shaky fingers, opening one of the bottles was troubling.    
  
“eheh, man oh man, i feel like i’m not  **ketchin’ it up** tonight.” i commented, to my behavior.    
  
“I can see that.”    
  
aw c’mon bud, didn’t see what i did there?   
  
i let out a sigh. grillby would already know why i’m present here if it was about late nights. but it’s something that i need to address, because let me tell ya, i have never experienced a dream as chronic before. you can say that it’s a first timer.    
  
“never have i ever had a dream that chilled me  **down to the bone** , ya know?”   
  
awkward laughter sputtered out in the empty room. eventually, it got louder, and louder, and louder. what a sad sight, having a bartender seeing a fat skeleton laughing at an overused joke about skeletons. even grillby just hung his head out of shame seeing my state.    
  
i’m beating my fists up to the counter. what’s so funny, honestly? what’s hilarious? for crying out loud, this laughter won’t stop. it’s scary, papyrus said, when i went beserk the other day. i honestly couldn’t stop myself. it’s funny. everything is funny.    
  
“Just… please, tell me what’s going on.”    
  
“it’s hilarious, grillby. how you’re calm. how i’m in your bar right now. how i have a brother being a total opposite as i am. it’s just so funny! c’mon bud, you should laugh too! it’s hilarious!”   
  
who am i kidding. who, am i kidding.    
  
i sighed, trying to stop. but what i could do after that was let out a small chuckle. my eyes gazed at the neon purple light that spelled the name of grillbz’s bar; grillby’s, to avoid eye contact. it’s uh, a little… pressuring to keep it intact, you know? how nice, huh?   
  
even up till now, my lil’ bony fingers cannot stop the tremor i currently am in. clenchin’ em tightly doesn’t seem that it might just do the trick, too. ah man, i gotta get use to it. seriously, even if i got okay agility skills for self defense and weird powers, trying to stop myself from exploding is something that i can’t control? usual, usual sansy.    
  
“aren’tcha tired of me bein’ here in the nights? i mean, if it was the regular dawn till the nights (and not these types of late nights or uh, early mornings) we’d be a pretty chill duo. the majority of the people… or maybe everyone in the underground find me as a chill dude. but you know this other side of me. what are ya’ opinions? or some better questions. do you think that everything is an inevitable event? do you think even the worse person can change?” my heart is beating a little fast when i spoke the sentence word by word.    
  
no response. grillby shows me a blank expression, but i could tell that he was thinking. how do i know this? i dunno, it’s just a measly guess (again, how can you read this dude? i mean, i can read a murderer’s face, but not him? he must be really pro in telling lies...) of his always usual face.    
  
“c’mon grillby. don’t leave me in with a cold shoulder, eh?” i continuously nudged my shoulder to his. it’s also a lot surprising that his suit hasn’t burned yet. magic in the underground sure is amazing.    
  
“I’m… only listening. Like always.” he said, in a calm manner. i just love this guy. he’s so blank, i tell ya.   
  
“but being a bartender for your whole life, always meeting the usuals like the hound pack and always meeting me, doesn’t that seem to tire you? don’t you want things to change?”   
  
“...” 

 

gotcha.   
  
“...I believe that the barrier can open one day, Sans. I know for a fact that, that can change the whole Underground’s lives for the better…”   
  
no, grillby. that CAN’T happen. i can feel the wrenching pain in my head, my whole body stiff. i hate that answer. because of the fact that the timelines are just going to reset over and over and over again, we CAN’T get a happy ending. so what if  _ they  _ achieved it? just because  _ they  _ can these pointless happy endings are just going to get torn off from us. from  _ me.  _ getting good things is something i gave up doing a long time ago already.   
  
having too much knowledge is just gonna weigh ya’ down.    
  
“You must be tired of me with answering with the same response again?” grillby shot. i hate you, grillby. i hate you so much.   
  
“But… I… will be serious here. Are you… are you really alright?” he continued.    
  
confused at first, i used some of the effort i have left to focus on myself, and finally knew the answer what the question wanted. he can say that again, hah. i’m not alright at all. and with my appearance slowly going into a big lump of a mess, is just making it more obvious.    
  
“honestly, grillby. why are you even asking?”    
  
my voice is getting raspy. this is it. i hate myself so much.   
  
“...Do you want me to call your brother?”

  
no. not him. he can’t know about this.    
  
“...i’ll see ya in the next one, grillbz.”   
  
“Wait-”, he called out, reaching his arm out, but without any hesitation, i hopped off my chair and ran out from grillby’s.   
  
ridiculous.   



End file.
